by Nashoda Rose
“Georgie.”
The loud, abrupt sound of my name made me lurch and my gaze flew to his.
His jaw was tense. Eyes hard and cold—unemotional. He stared directly at me, not an ounce of compassion in his unyielding stare. But I saw other things. There beneath his stoic solidity … the torment, the pain, the darkness that was soon going to become my darkness.
I started shaking violently, and my throat tightened against the sobs that racked my body. “No.” It was the only word I could get out.
Please no.
He stood and watched me tremble and cry on my knees in the middle of my room for several minutes before he said, “I couldn’t save him.”
His words cut into me with finality of the truth, and my breath hitched as more tears pooled and slipped from the confines of my eyelids. I tightened my arms around my body as if that would help the pain ease.
It didn’t.
Nothing would.
Connor.
He was gone.
I’d never hear his teasing. Feel the touch of his hand ruffling my hair. Hear his voice calling me Georgie girl. He promised to come back.
Pain.
Hurt.
Devastation.
Georgie girl.
Chaos. My head screamed with chaos as Connor’s image played across my mind. It was distorted and broken with bits of light being sucked apart by the darkness.
Destruction. I had to destroy. My perfect world was no longer. Nothing would ever be the same again. I’d never be the same again.
I scrambled to my feet and grabbed my duvet and tore it off the bed, the flowered throw pillow and bunny were tossed to the floor. A strange sound emerged from my throat as I dove for my dresser and swept my arm across the shiny neat surface—books, my jewelry box, and a vase crashed to the hardwood floor. I could hear glass shattering, and silver stud earrings, pearls, and rings scattered in every direction.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
Destruction.
I grabbed my light off my nightstand and threw it across the room. The bulb made a loud pop as it hit the wall. I needed to destroy. Everything I’d made into a neat and tidy place was no longer. It was all gone. Nothing would be perfect again. My world had just burst open, and I was bleeding. It hurt. God, it hurt.
I tripped over my duvet as I went for the closet and fell to my knees. It didn’t stop me … the physical pain was nothing, almost welcoming to the emotional pain that was taking me apart piece by piece. I got up, then staggered to the closet and threw open the doors.
I wrenched my clothes off the hangers—the pretty, soft yellow dresses, white ones, black ones. Then the plain button-down blouses and the black pants. The empty hangers swung back and forth on the metal bar as every single piece of clothing was thrown to the floor. When the closet was empty, I picked up whatever was in reach and began tearing. Buttons popped. Silk and nylon tore, sleeves ripped from the cores—like me. This was me being shredded apart.
Carelessly, I yanked and pulled at whatever my hands could get a hold of.
Rip.
Tear.
Ruin everything. Destroy.
I was breathing hard when I finished. Nothing was left alive. Just like me. I had nothing left except to run.
Run.
Run.
Run.
I ran for the door. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out of here. Away from this ruined perfect world. He was gone. Connor was gone.
My mind was whirling and frantic.
Escape.
I didn’t even see him; my vision blurred from tears and anger and pain. He blocked the doorway, his tall lean frame preventing my path of escape.
I ran anyway, trying to dive past him.
He snagged me around the waist with one arm and my feet left the floor. I screamed and squirmed in his hold like a rag doll. He set me down directly in front of him, his hands latched onto my upper arms in a bruising grip.
“Georgie, look at me.”
I kicked and yelled, trying to leave, but nothing would set me free. I knew I’d never be free again. My brother. My best friend. He was dead.
“Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.”
Run. Get away.
“Look. At. Me.”
This time his voice cut through my hysterical need to escape, and I stopped struggling, staring up at his unflinching eyes. How could he just stand there? He’d just destroyed my life, my family’s life. And he was standing there looking at me with not an ounce of compassion.
“I hate you.”
“You going to stand still?”
Chest heaving and heart pounding, I realized Deck had watched me destroy everything in my room. He never did anything to stop it. The one thing I did know about this man was that he was unbending. Connor always said Deck was the best team leader, because no matter what shit went down, Deck would never yield to anyone. He’d stand by his word no matter what, and I guessed that he wouldn’t let me go until I bent to his will.
I stopped fighting.
He waited a second then released me. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small leather-bound book that had worn edges and a cracked spine. “He’d want you to have this.”
I didn’t move as I stared at what I knew was Connor’s journal. Deck grabbed my wrist and shoved it in my hand. The abrupt hard surface hitting my palm.
Connor’s name was written on the top in his familiar messy hand writing.
I nearly fell. Probably would have if Deck hadn’t grabbed my arm. He guided me into my room, and I didn’t object. All I did was stare down at the bound book. The last piece of my brother. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
I felt the softness of the mattress as Deck made me sit, and then the floor creaked as he started to walk away.
I looked up at the retreating figure. “I wish it was you, not him.”
There was no reaction to my words, and really, I hadn’t expected any. It just came out. And I did hate that Deck was here instead of Connor. I hated that he could walk back to his family and laugh and hold them and my brother couldn’t.
He turned his head and met my eyes. For a second, I thought I witnessed remorse, but it was so quick that I could’ve imagined it or maybe I hoped to see it from my brother’s best friend.
“Yeah.” His whispered tone was barely audible as the door shut, and I listened to his steady booted steps walk away.
The front door opened, and the screen door screeched. Both shut.
I don’t know why I did it, but I walked over to the window, parted the white sheer curtains and watched as he walked down the path. The tension in his back. The stiffness of his stride.
He stopped at the side of the car and stood still for a second. I couldn’t see his face or what he was doing until he slammed both fists into the roof of the car; then his head dropped forward and his shoulders slouched.
My fingers curled around the delicate material of the curtains, and I didn’t realize how hard until they ripped from the rod and fell to the floor leaving the window bare.
As if he’d heard it—but I knew that was impossible—Deck turned. Our eyes locked. It felt like he could see right into me with that direct gaze. I felt naked and vulnerable, unable to look away, trapped. He gave me these wounds. Wounds that would never heal. Deck was now part of the darkness inside me that I’d never escape from.
His nod was barely distinguishable before he broke the connection and opened the car door.
I watched his lean form curl into the driver’s seat.
The engine came to life with a loud purr.
Life. Something Connor had lost.
I turned away just as I heard the squeal of the tires on the street.
My perfect world had just been thrown into utter destructive chaos.
***
Nashoda Rose lives in Toronto with her assortment of pets. She writes contemporary romance with a splash of darkness, or maybe it’s a tidal wave. Her novel “Torn from You” is th
e first in the Tear Asunder series. When she isn’t writing, she can be found sitting in a field reading with her dog at her side while her horses graze nearby. She loves interacting with her readers on Facebook and chatting about her addiction—books.
Nashoda Rose also writes under the name Cindy Paterson her paranormal romance series: Jump (The Senses #1) Step (The Senses #2) Fall (The Senses #3) and coming soon Take (The Senses #4).
***
Tear Asunder (With You and Torn from You)
"With You"
Sculpt is an illegal fighter.
He’s also the lead singer of a local rock band.
No one knows his real name.
And from the moment I met him, he made me forget mine.
In order to convince Sculpt to give me self-defence lessons, I had to follow his one rule—no complaining or he’d walk. I didn’t think it would be a problem. I could handle a few bruises. What I hadn’t anticipated was landing on my back with Sculpt on top of me and my entire body burning up for him.
I tried to ignore it.
I failed of course. And having a hot, tattooed badass on top of me week after week, acting completely immune to what he was doing to my body—it was frustrating as hell, so I broke his rule—I complained.
Then he kissed me.
"Torn from You"
Love is like an avalanche. It hits hard, fast and without mercy.
At least it did for me when Sculpt, the lead singer of the rock band Tear Asunder knocked me off my feet. Literally, because he’s also a fighter, illegally of course, and he taught me how to fight. He also taught me how to love and I fell hard for him. I mean the guy could do sweet, when he wasn't doing bossy, and I like sweet.
Then it all shattered.
Kidnapped.
Starved.
Beaten.
I was alone and fighting to survive.
When I heard Sculpt's voice, I thought he was there to save me.
I was wrong.
*Warning: This book contains very disturbing situations, graphic violence, strong language and sexual content. Over 18 years.
***
Destroyed by Pepper Winters
She has a secret.
I'm complicated. Not broken or ruined or running from a past I can't face. Just complicated.
I thought my life couldn't get any more tangled in deceit and confusion. But I hadn't met him. I hadn't realized how far I could fall or what I'd have do to get free.
He has a secret.
I've never pretended to be good or deserving. I chase who I want, do what I want, act how I want.
I didn't have time to lust after a woman I had no right to lust after. I told myself to shut up and stay hidden. But then she tried to run. I'd tasted what she could offer me and damned if I would let her go.
Secrets destroy them.
**Pepper Winters is known for her Dark Erotica. This book is more a Grey Romance. It isn't fluffy, and still deals with darker subjects, but it isn't brutal.**
Destroyed is a complicated love story between a man with a terrible past and a woman who holds his cure. A man who finds redemption in love and a woman who loses her heart and reason for living.
Death brings life, and destruction brings new beginnings.
***
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Dedication
A message from the Author
Acknowledgments
What’s Next
About the Author
Tear Asunder (With You and Torn from You)